People are first and foremost Republicans, first and foremost Anarchists, first and foremost a man or woman, and that is a mistake. It hurts the individual and it hurts the whole.
It hurts, it hurts... Im dying, I'm dying.
It hurts the spirit, somehow, to read the word environments, when the plural means that there are so many alternatives there to be sorted through, as in a market, and voted on.
If you fight back and get hit, it hurts a little while; if you dont fight back it hurts forever.
It takes a minute to have a crush on someone, an hour to like someone, and a day to love someone... but it takes a lifetime to forget someone.
I've found out why people laugh. They laugh because it hurts so much . . . because it's the only thing that'll make it stop hurting.
Sometimes it lasts in love, But sometimes it hurts instead.
Love until it hurts. Real love is always painful and hurts: then it is real and pure.
Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a teardrop.
But some people can't tell where it hurts. They can't calm down. They can't ever stop howling.
Of course it hurts", she grumbled, tipping my head further back. "Life sucks. Get over it
Half way down, he encountered Saphira, who had jammed her head and neck as far up the stair as she could, gouging the wood in her frenzy. Little one. She flicked out her tongue and caught him on the hand with its rough tip. He smiled. Then she arched her neck and tried to pull back, but to no avail. What's wrong? I'm stuck. You're... He could not help it;he laughed even though it hurt. The situation was too absurd.
It hurts not the tongue to give fair words.
This was not a fearie tale. This was not the movies. This was life. It hurt more. It was excruciating. It was excruciatingly beautiful.
You can't live your life for other people. You've got to do what's right for you, even if it hurts some people you love.
My flesh was burning where the skin was scraped off my knees, and I was afraid that I couldn't be alive anymore with so much pain, and at the same time I knew I was alive because it hurt. I was afraid that death would find its way into me through this open knee and I quickly covered my knee with my hands.
The experiencing self lives in the moment; it is the one that answers the question, 'Does it hurt?' or 'What were you thinking about just now?' The remembering self is the one that answers questions about the overall evaluation of episodes or periods of one's life, such as a stay in the hospital or the years since one left college.
[Short Talk on Sylvia Plath] Did you see her mother on television? She said plain, burned things. She said I thought it an excellent poem but it hurt me. She did not say jungle fear. She did not say jungle hatred wild jungle weeping chop it back chop it. She said self-government she said end of the road. She did not say humming in the middle of the air what you came for chop.
I look up to my brother - he inspires me so much. He has always been my best friend. He knows everything. I left the house at 16 when I auditioned for 'American Idol' and he was 14. It was one of those things that was so sudden and neither of us expected it. He has been so supportive of me even though I know that every time I leave, it hurts him.
Obama has no solutions. Obama has failed the country and its great citizens, and they don't like it when somebody such as myself speaks the truth about this - it hurts too much.
I love you. It hurts more than anything ever has, but I do. So don't you dare tell me I don't. Don't you ever say it again!
Even now, as I write this, I can still feel that tightness. And I want you to feel it--the wind coming off the river, the waves, the silence, the wooded frontier. You're at the bow of a boat on the Rainy River. You're twenty-one years old, you're scared, and there's a hard squeezing pressure in your chest. What would you do? Would you jump? Would you feel pity for yourself? Would you think about your family and your childhood and your dreams and all you're leaving behind? Would it hurt? Would it feel like dying? Would you cry, as I did?
What would you do? Would you jump? Would you feel pity for yourself? Would you think about your family and your childhood and your dreams and all you're leaving behind? Would it hurt? Would it feel like dying? Would you cry, as I did?
She had never experienced the pain of unsatisfied desire before. It hurt. It hurt like nothing she'd ever felt, and there seemed to be no remedy
It begins in the heart...and it hurts when it's true. It only hurts because it's true.
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